


Amelioration

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Kink Meme, M/M, Major Spoilers, Slow Burn, do i even need to tag ac3 spoilers any more it's been a year
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's nothing more left for either man to lose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt here: http://asscreedkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1795.html?thread=9607427#cmt9607427

  
Connor hesitates at the last second, and he's not sure why. Maybe it's because Lee is already half-dead, not resisting in the slightest. Maybe it's because he knows that killing Lee won't bring his parents or Achilles or his very best friend back. Maybe it's because his hands are too bloodied already. He really does not know.  
  
Connor gets up and goes to the bar, and asks for a doctor. For good measure (the white barkeep gives him a vaguely disdainful look, 'what a filthy savage' he must be thinking.), he tips the man a gold sovereign to fetch a medic quickly.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Stephane asks, when he arrives with the horse and carriage.  
  
Connor has spent the past few days doing his best to keep himself and Lee alive. It's hard to fetch water and food with such a huge, hardly-healed wound in his side, and he does not trust Lee to do it. Considering that Lee has done little but rest and quietly cry when he thinks Connor is asleep, he would probably attempt to drown himself in the well rather than carry water to their room.   
  
"Give me a couple of months," Connor says. "It is not as though I can do much else in this state."  
  
Stephane nods reluctantly, and drives both men back to the Homestead.  
  


* * *

 

Jamie assesses them both with a critical eye.   
  
"You need bed rest and painkillers. Both of you. I don't know how didn't reopen your side, Connor."  
  
Connor opens his mouth to argue, and Jamie cuts him off.  
  
"No. Connor, you're going to do as I say this time. You don't seem to understand how bad your injuries are. There are only a few stitches stopping your kidney falling out of your abdomen. That hole never going to fully heal. If you want to ever be able to move properly again, you're going to take things easy and exercise  _extremely_  gently for the next couple of months."  
  
Connor closes his mouth, and Jamie sighs.  
  
"Connor, you know we're glad to help you in any way we can. Even if you do have some strange ideas about certain things," Jamie's eyes slide to where Charles Lee is sitting, staring out the window overlooking the bay. "Just  _please_  look after yourself too."  
  
"I understand," Connor says, quietly. "I apologise for causing you all to worry so much about me."  
  
Jamie relaxes, and gives him a small smile.  
  
"We'll sort something out about helping with chores and things. At least until you can bend over without splitting your side."  
  
"Thank you," Connor smiles back. Truly, he is lucky to have such wonderful friends.  
  
Luckier than Lee.  
  
He glances at the… well, he's a prisoner, isn't he? Lee is still sitting on his chair, gazing at the flames of the fireplace. Connor can tell that he's lost in thought. Or, judging from the expression on his face, it's more likely to be regret.  
  
  


* * *

  
Jamie stays in the manor for the first few months, mostly because Connor and Lee's wounds need cleaning and re-dressing twice a day (leaving medical attention for so long had meant that they had become slightly infected), and Clipper assists in household chores for a couple of weeks.   
  
Lee turns out to be proficient at cooking, and silently helps Clipper prepare meals. Connor is banned from doing anything more strenuous than polishing the silverware.   
  
"I am sure I can fetch water," he says.   
  
"Jamie'll kill me," Clipper replies. "Sorry, sir."  
  
Connor is lucky that the people of the Homestead drop by every day- Prudence always stops by on Wednesdays and Saturdays with fresh meat and vegetables, while Ellen comes by every Thursday to show him the progress she's made with a coat he doesn't recall asking her for. Terence and Godfrey join forces with Doctor White and Lance, and they soon end up playing cards each Friday, and White also stops by on Mondays to talk with Jamie- they seem to be becoming fast friends.  
  
The only bad thing-- well, it's not bad per se, simply worrying-- is that Lee is little more than a ghost. He dutifully takes care of the small chores Connor sets him (all things like reorganising books and dusting shelves), but he does not attempt to instigate conversation, and spends most of his time holed up in the library upstairs. Connor occasionally hears the muffled sound of a man quietly crying when he passes that room.

 

* * *

 

"Why are you so obedient?" Connor asks one evening, sauntering into the library and settling onto a couch. Clipper is re-organising the training room, and Dobby has stopped by, currently helping Jamie sort through the miscellaneous items in the attic. "Why have you not yet tried to run?"  
  
Lee does not look up from his book. His voice is quiet, weary. Connor wonders if he feels anything else nowadays.  
  
"There's no point in rebelling or attempting an escape. The Order is destroyed. You've caught me. If I tried to run you'd only catch me again. I've spent the last ten years looking over my shoulder, wondering if you were there. It was no way to live."  
  
"Tell me about how you met my father," Connor says, before Lee can ask why he has not yet been killed. That is not a question Connor can answer.  
  
"Why do you want to know?" There is no malice in Lee's voice, merely the exhaustion that constantly seems to seep from every single cell of his body.   
  
"Curiosity. I never really got a chance to know Father, and I know you were close."  
  
Lee finally glances at him, closing the book in his hands.   
  
"It was in fifty four. Boston Harbour. Grand Master Birch had asked me to assist Master Kenway- soon to be Grand Master is he could establish an Order here- in his mission to find a precursor storage site, and if I did well enough I might be inducted into the order. I waited by the docks and when his ship arrived I did everything in my power to make the transition into Colonial life the easiest it could possibly be for a fine, upstanding gentleman like your father. I then helped him recruit Johnson, Hickey, Pitcairn and Church. I helped him murder Braddock and find your mother afterwards. For my efforts I was rewarded with the greatest position I could have hoped for: working at his side for the greater good."  
  
Lee's eyes narrow and his lip curls, and Connor can hear the unspoken words.  _And you took that from me._    
  
Connor wants to stay and ask about his mother, but he does not wish to upset Lee further. He leaves immediately, using the excuse that Clipper needs his help with cataloguing the armoury.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry for taking so long, and for not being able to write Jamie as anything other than a sarcastic little shit.

It's uncomfortable in the manor when it's only Connor and Lee there. Lee is still a depressed ghost, more or less, and his presence is jarring. He may not have murdered Connor's mother, but he is still inextricably associated with that terrible event. He may not have killed Achilles, but he had made his life difficult. He may not have been the one to stab Kanen and feel his blood spilling down the blade and onto Connor's stomach and looked into eyes which were once so friendly but were now so full of hatred--

Connor shakes his head, trying to shake the memory from his mind, and takes a few deep breaths, wincing at the tiny stabs of pain in his side. The wound is not healing as fast as it ought to. The skin is reddened, slightly swollen at the jagged edges. The stitches pull constantly, and it means that even walking up and down the stairs is a chore. Leaning over his books at his desk is difficult. Straightening his back hurts. He wishes that the damned wound would just close already. 

"You've got to be more patient," Jamie says, looking concerned.. 

"I do not want to be patient," Connor grumbles. "I want to be better." 

"I want a gold-plated pocket watch, but that's not going to happen any time soon," Jamie replies, not looking up from his task of dabbing stinging ointment on the gash. "But if I keep working steadily, I'll be able to buy one in the future. And if you keep doing as I ask, you'll be right as rain-- or close enough-- in a year or so." 

"A year?" Connor squeezes his eyes shut as Jamie re-dresses the wound. "I cannot wait that long!"

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you impaled yourself," Jamie raises an eyebrow and places a cup of water and a bowl of soup before Connor, and another bowl in front of the seat next to him.

"It was an accident!"

 "So was my youngest brother, but he's turned out just fine," Jamie replies, sitting down next to Connor.  "My point is this: everything has a consequence, but not every consequence is a bad thing. You've been working yourself too hard for too long, and now you've got to give yourself a chance to recover."

Connor glares at Jamie, who grins and begins eating his supper. 

"You may have a point," Connor cedes, unhappily. He picks up his spoon.

 

* * *

 

"If you're going to kill me, I'd rather you just do it," Lee says, when Connor approaches to ask if he could help Clipper rake the leaves from the paths and graves.

Connor is stunned, momentarily, until he remembers that he has not yet told Charles Lee what his purpose here is and why he is, essentially, a prisoner. Though the Homestead is a beautiful place, a gilded cage is still a cage nonetheless. 

"I am not going to kill you," Connor says. "Yet."

If Lee cannot be redeemed, it may be necessary to kill him. He's not lying, not really.

Lee scowls.

"I can't give you information on Templar activities because there are none. I can't tell you about our members and you can't use me as leverage because I'm the only one left. I can't assist you in your political manipulations because not only am I disgraced but everybody probably thinks I'm dead. I am of no use to you, you <i>idiot</i>. Why am I still alive?"

Connor winces at the venom in Lee's voice. 

"You are more useful than you think," he says. That's true as well: in all the tasks Connor sets his enemy, Charles has completed each one meticulously and without complaint.

Lee simply shakes his head, bitterly. 

"You assassins have no honour."

"Go help Clipper rake the leaves," Connor snaps. "He is by the stables."

"Fine," Lee says, very nearly mockingly, pushing past Connor in that faux-polite way Haytham used to.

 

* * *

 

About a week onward from Lee's interrogation, Connor ends up sending Clipper to try to convince an old friend of his family to support the Assassin cause. In theory it was a simple task; in practice it was far more complicated. To keep the man safe, it would be necessary for him to know as little about the Brotherhood as possible. 

Though Lee insists that there is no more Order, his lackeys are attempting to rebuild, repair. Though Lee allowed what remained of the Order to fall apart in his grief over Haytham's death, a sizeable number of men faithful to the cause remain. Merchants, minor politicians. Men that can be manipulated by a gentlemanly Senator with his heart in the right place, as Clipper had assured Connor said friend did.

Connor cannot help but worry. The Brotherhood is so small, they cannot afford to lose anybody. Aveline may have a team of Assassins in the south, but it is more efficient to keep to small groups spread throughout the land.

 

* * *

 

"What is this?" Lee sounds strangled, as he looks at the clothes laid out on the makeshift bed in the library. Connor leans in the doorway.

"They are new clothes. Your uniform is not wearable, even with all the washing I gave it, and you cannot keep borrowing my clothes; they hardly fit you. They may be a little on the loose side, Ellen only had your uniform to measure from." 

Lee wheels around, eyes wide with rage and something that might be fear.

"How long are you planning on keeping me here?" he spits. "Aren't you satisfied yet? Haven't you had enough of torturing me?"

"I told you, the Order is not yet--"

 "Whatever is left of the Order is nothing but a pathetic, half-baked bunch of fools who have no clue or concept as to what it means to be a Templar and stand for justice!" Lee hisses, losing what little composure he had. His voice trembles and he starts to shout. "They've some romantic idea that saving people from themselves is an easy, thankful task, and not one of them is worthy of being labelled a good man! Your father would've taken one look at them, and ordered them out of his sight, but I, thanks to you, had no such luxury!"

"But they are still--"

"They are nothing! You, boy, have taken from me my dearest friends and comrades, you've taken my reputation and my job, and you've even taken away my home and belongings! Everything that gave my life some sort of meaning, you have stolen from me! And yet you think I should help you? I should be grateful to be allowed to live? Idiot! What kind of a man could stand to live as a prisoner, a mere shadow of his old self? I ask again: why am I still alive? I can give you nothing! And even if I could, I'd rather be dead than live one more damned moment in the front line of this useless _fucking_ war! Haven't you gotten it into your empty skull, boy? Neither of us can win! Your freedom fighters will _always_ lose to the darkness of humanity, and good men will _always_ die before their time!"

Connor opens his mouth, and Lee continues screaming bloody murder.

"No! Not one more damned word from your mouth! You are the worst, the lowest of the low! Exacting petty vengeance under the guise of freedom? Vile! My hands may be reluctantly stained in blood, but yours are gleefully soaked! You can claim no quarter, no betterment! You murder good men for the sake of murder, you kill your own father, and you torture the only surviving member of the organisation you utterly destroyed and burnt to the ground! You are worse than everything you claimed us to be! You are nothing! Get out of my sight!"

 Connor hesitates, before Lee, red-faced with fury, howls one final word and he's actually terrified enough to back away, and flee all the way downstairs, hole in his side be damned. 

"Leave!"


End file.
